flame of my heart
by dee-thequeenbee
Summary: Various Dragon Queen OS.
1. our gentle sin

_My entry for the second Dragon Queen Week, Day 3: Another Life. In the Heroes and Villains book. Dragon Bandit._

* * *

 **Our gentle sin**

 _Now I see fire  
Inside the mountain  
I see fire  
Burning the trees_

..

The trip to her cavern is always dangerous – she has to practically climb a mountain, because her friend's shelter is nestled right on a side of a rocky hill. It takes some ropes and knots around her waist, and her boots slide several times and some stones roll down to reach the valley, but the view is amazing – the sky is on fire, by the time she reaches the top, and she stops, panting, hands on her tights, before resuming the climb, and finally she arrives to the dragon's refugee.

"Mal?" she's always hesitant, pushing aside a home-made curtain, and the sudden heat of the inside hits her like a wave, followed by an annoyed groan.

Maleficent is splayed on a straw mattress, hair like a mess, stretches lazily, blinks a few times and finally recognizes her host. "Regina?"

"Hi," she exhales, and Mal's already up on her feet, reaching her, and pulling her in an embrace.

"I was so worried, I haven't seen you in months!"

"Yeah, sorry," she shrugs, freeing herself, and walks past her to go sit on a pillow on the ground. Her hand finds her bow and her quiver, lifts them above her head to place them beside her. "Anyway I think that had the Queen captured me, you would have very well known it, even from up here."

Mal is scrutinizing her face, but stays silent, then turns towards one of the small fires cracking in a corner. There's a pot, hanging from a branch, and she busies herself with some kind of mixture, undoubtedly a tea or an infusion. Regina lets her gaze roam across the room – all the herbal supplies, smell of smoke and fresh air, some books in a nook – where Mal sleeps at night, and basically all the proofs of her friend's witchcraft and absolute, unforgivable treason towards the Crown.

"So, what news do you bring me?" Mal hums, she can only see her back, her black-and-violet tattered mantle.

"Same as always," she mutters as an answer. "Living in a tree, always on the run… the Queen is particularly crabby, these days," she adds. "Nearly caught me a few days ago… but she was too slow or too stupid, sending those disgusting dwarfs to do her job," she says in disdain.

"Still thinking to leave, then?" Mal asks lightly, the hurt in her voice all too evident.

"Yes," she answers earnestly. "As soon as I'll have the money… which is my impending matter right now, if I have to be honest. If I can beat the Merry Men in the next robbery, that's it," she scrunches her nose at the thought of Robin Hood and his men – because she's always so _close_ to accomplish a smooth, well-planned action against the Queen's taxes, and here he comes with those noisy and unprepared companions of his, and she has been almost caught a few times because of them.

Mal turns, hands her a chipped mug – black ceramic, where on hell did she find it? – and motions her to drink, before sitting next to her.

"Are you still angry, Regina?"

It's out of the blue – she was expecting them to dance around the subject for all evening, but Mal is one for bluntness, always has been.

She sips her tea, nursing her options, then chooses to be honest. "Yes, I am," and she can't help but feel a stab of pain, because Maleficent's face falls. "I… I think I've forgiven you, though. Or – I can understand why… why you did it."

The relief is beautiful to watch, and her smile even more. Mal leans on to take her hand, grateful. They lock their gazes – she doesn't speak, but the dragon shifts closer and encircles her shoulders, and Regina's head goes to settle in the crook of her neck – she aspires Mal's perfume, and one single tear falls on her skin. "I'm sorry," she hears her murmur against her hair, and her messy braid is tickling her cheek. She nods, squeezing her eyes close, letting the memories slide in her mind.

 _"_ _You can still save them both, Maleficent," Snow White is standing tall, with a triumphant smile, and her magic presses on her lungs, choking her, and her eyes, full of tears, are fixed on the dragon. "Or not," Snow laughs maniacally, gripping her hold on Lilith. Mal is on her human form – she has lost the fire, and Regina cries, for herself and for her friend and for Mal's daughter – Mal pleads, and Snow chants "Choose, Maleficent, we're running out of time," and it is cruel, so cruel, and finally, Mal motions towards Lilith, and Regina closes her eyes – she wouldn't have expected to be chosen anyway, she has never been someone's priority, and never she is going to be._

 _Snow laughs, then looks at Lilith, and releases her. But Lilith walks towards Snow, and she's by her side, and – NO – a forgetting potion? Mal is crying now, her daughter is lost to the enemy._

 _An arrow flies from the trees – and hits Snow's shoulder, and Regina doesn't feel the magic anymore, the only thing she knows is that she's running away, grabbing Mal's arm and two horses and they're safe, but Lilith is lost._

"No, _I_ am sorry, Mal," Regina tells her, mind back in the cavern. Turns her neck, finds Mal's cheek, and presses a light kiss on her jaw. "I'm sorry for… for Lilith."

"I just…" Mal starts, but she shakes her head, then leans her forehead on Mal's temple.

"I shouldn't have punished you for this… or rejected you, it was cruel from me," Regina tells her. "I was so blinded by my rage that I didn't stay by your side… maybe Snow is right," she mutters, a sudden sadness taking hold of her heart. "Maybe I really am evil."

Maleficent distances her head from Regina, and brings up a hand to lift her chin gently. "Listen to me, you silly girl," she says. "You're not evil. The Queen is cruel, and she's playing tricks with your mind, alright? You may have… made some mistakes, but you're one of the kindest persons I've ever met. Who else could have befriended a monster like me?"

Regina is silently crying, by now, and hot tears fall between her long locks of hair, and Mal shakes her head, replaces a fugitive strand behind her ear.

"You're not a monster," Regina tells her, inhaling sharply to stop the tears. "You are… special."

"I… _was_ special."

She speaks quietly, Maleficent, mourns the loss of her wings, the loss of her daughter – enslaved, imprisoned, brain-washed. Her eyes are looking down, and Regina takes in her face – cups her cheeks, and Mal is forced to meet her gaze. "You still are to me," she whispers, and leans on, and her lips are finding Mal's, brushing them gently at first. Her mouth is always so warm, like a bonfire in a summer night, she parts her lips, nudges her tongue gently – leaves her room to retreat.

But Maleficent's hand goes up to her head, slides through her hair, bringing her closer, and now tongues are in motion, dancing angrily one against the other. She sucks almost painfully, and Regina finds herself sweating in anticipation, because this is them, anger and force and fire, and she has missed this.

Mal lets her part their mouths for a moment, and rests her forehead against hers. "Stay the night," she whispers, hot breath on her skin.

"Was that a make-up kiss?"

"Maybe."

"Well, then, I guess I could stay," Regina smiles, her fingers ghosting over Mal's hand. "I could use some heat, tonight."

"Oh, you bet," Mal grins, and drags her towards burning depths, were they can forget their names and just live in the moment, lost in their caresses and sweaty collisions of different worlds.


	2. twinkle, twinkle, little star

_My entry for the second Dragon Queen Week, Day 6: surprise pregnancy._

* * *

 **Twinkle, twinkle, little star**

 _How I wonder what you are_  
 _Up above the world so high_  
 _Like a diamond in the sky..._

..

She hears.

It's warm, all around her, and it's wet, and she's fluctuating, oh so gently. She feels safe, she feels protected. She's in a limbo, a mid-way place – she swims between creation and life. She waits to be born.

And she hears.

At first, just slim fragments of words, slippery in the fluids.

 _She'll be strong. And beautiful.  
Do you think she'll have my eyes?  
She should – I love your eyes. _

But she didn't understand, then. That came later. Time isn't a concept for her to grasp, and won't be for some time, but she feels herself growing. Her hearing magnifies, her eyes are still shut.  
That is the time of the songs.

Lullabies, and soft tunes, and hummed refrains. The words are still difficult. Some of them she can manage – but there's also an ancient, unknown tongue, that slides through her small body of baby, and makes her shiver, like a musician who's playing hidden strings. The melody vibrates, and it's as if something is awakening inside of her.  
Something old and powerful and beautiful. Something with fire.

She always kicks, she can't help it.

And every time, without exception, a kind pressure against the waters. The pressure rubs, soothes, whispers, and she feels lulled.

 _Your daughter won't let me sleep.  
Not sure you can ground her yet, honey. _

The voices keep murmuring, and more pressure is applied, and the fluid swirls around her. She falls asleep, maybe.  
Her dreams are purple, black, and blue. There's smoke, in her dreams. Eyes. Flapping wings. The _wind_.

 _I can't wait to fly with you, little one._

Then, it's the time of the stories.

She's older, now. Months of songs have sharpened her senses. She can move her fingers, her nails are no bigger than minuscule shells. She knows of the shells, because of the stories. _Her_ stories.

They always start with the same words, and she trembles in anticipation.

 _Once upon a time…_

And so she learns.  
She learns of the sea, and of the sunsets, and of a pirate's daughter who sailed the unknown oceans. She learns of a silent lady who helped her brothers to get rid of a curse that forced them to turn into swans. She learns of a lion and four brothers. She learns of a ring. Of mermaids and snow storms.

She learns of a lost princess who found her way home and fell in love. Of a prince who saved his mother from death and despair. She learns of two girls, who swore to be together forever, and got brutally separated.

She learns of a thief who had a gentle soul, and loved light and darkness of his lover, and died for her. She learns of leaves, waterfalls and dawns. She learns of the dragons, of a little star who came home to her moon, after years of separation. She learns of swans and arrows, apples and blood, horses and fire.

She can't wait. Suddenly, it feels like her time there is about to end – but it's so warm and comfortable, and a part of her doesn't want to leave. The voices whisper, quietly excited.

 _We can't wait to meet you, baby_.

And soon, other voices add their unique tales to her limited knowledge. A boy – at least, she thinks he is, and he's humming against her liquid nest.

 _How are you, little sister? You're not overtiring mom, are you?_

A silvery voice, sometimes. A girl, and she's younger than the boy, louder, maybe, but always careful around her.

 _Can I talk to the baby, auntie, please? Hey, hello, baby. It's your cousin, and I'm waiting for you, and I love you so much already._

And she always has this warm feeling, when they speak. She thinks she has heard a word for that – a word which collects love, protection, and a whispered forever. _Family_.

But her favorite moments, are when the water swishes, and she's curled on herself, because the body that hosts her and nurtures her and cares for her has to rest. Night.

At night, is when everything is beautiful, black, starry spots and curly clouds. At night, gentle caresses, more words, and shivers of love and pleasure. And at night, is when her two voices sing together, a tale of heaven and sin.

She won't remember of this, of course. It will remain, it will mold her being, it will be her legacy. She has fire and smoke and magic in her blood. She has memories, tales and songs. She has darkness and light.

 _Come on, princess. Almost there.  
Be brave. _

And then, the water is inexplicably missing, and there's a _force_ , more ancient than life itself – it _is_ life itself, and it hurts, and it pushes her out towards the light, it hurts _so much_.

Her first breath of oxygen is like a knife of air. She tries out her lungs, and she's flying from hands to hands, sticky blood and mucus are removed, and her wrist burns. Later in her life, she'll see the little star on there. Her mark.

Right now, cold water washes her, and cold fabric dries her – why is it all so _cold_? – and finally, the hot embrace she was waiting for. Arms surround her, and _her_ voice again. She recognizes it, she feels safe.

"Oh, look at you. You're perfect."

A warm hand, the other voice.

"She's beautiful, honey. She has your hair."

"Indeed she is. She's absolutely beautiful."

Her nose nuzzles against her mother's breast, and she finds her nipple, and starts sucking tentatively. She finds a rhythm, and now she's at home.

"Welcome to the family, Seraphine."


	3. someone in the crowd

_Because Lisa requested something from a cute pic of Kristin and Lana at the Women's March 2017. College AU._

* * *

 **Someone in the Crowd _  
_**

 _Someone in the crowd could be the one you need to know  
The one to finally lift you off the ground  
Someone in the crowd could take you where you want to go  
If you're the someone ready to be found _

It's her placard she notices first. A huge thing, vivid colors – probably some kind of stinking paint she hasn't quite managed to scrub off her grey hoodie before leaving home. The handwriting is elegant, the words penned with care, and it says _We are the granddaughters of the witches you weren't able to burn_.

She tightens the hold on her own placard, her gaze descending from the words to the other girl's face. They're walking approximately near, but Regina is staring, and she doesn't recall that she's supposed to go ahead. She'll most likely lose her friends – Emma's hair is still visible in the distance, but not for long.

The chant's volume increases around her. _Love Trumps Hate_ , they sing, the beat of music and laughs runs like a current, her eyes lift to the sky. Sun is bright today, and Regina feels happy. Today, she's not thinking of her problems – her recent fight with her sister, or the essay she's supposed to write (due for Monday, but she'll pull an overnight, no problem). Today she feels part of something important. A sisterhood, you could say, except there's also a bunch of men in the crowd.

The solidarity, the participation and happiness and _pride_ she feels in the air is head-spinning.

That's how she gets the boldness to approach the blonde, tapping on her shoulder. She turns, with a bright smile, and that's how Regina notices they are wearing the same shirt. "Nice catch," she points at it, rewarded when the girl laughs.

"Yeah, I thought of a shirt with some slogan, but this is much better," she says. "I'm Mal."

"Regina," she answers, shaking awkwardly their hands as they try not to let their placards fall.

But the crowd pushes from behind, so they restart walking, their paces falling in sync. There's a little girl around Regina's legs, running and running and waving a rainbow flag, and she watches as the girl's moms are smiling proudly at her. Her heart feels so full, so full of love for these strangers all around. This kind of adrenaline is a thing she only associates with – maybe – her dance recitals when she was little.

 _Belonging_.

Mal smiles at her again, and she can't tell if that is because of _her_ or just because of that general sense of excitement that permeates the air.

"So where's your boyfriend?" Mal asks, "didn't agree with this?"

"If only he existed," Regina jokes, but can't help but think _If I had one, he'd better agree with this if he wants to keep his head in the right place_.

"Ah, too bad," Mal replies. Her hand lifts to brush something off Regina's jacket. "I bet you're a good kisser."

Regina can't help the laugh that comes right out her heart. "And you are getting that vibe from where exactly?"

Mal merely lifts an eyebrow, pointing wordlessly at Regina's placard. _Free kisses for those who aren't orange_ , it says, and _shit_ , she has taken Emma's placard – that _unbelievable bitch_ , she must have switched them.

Regina's face must show her surprise, but she manages to laugh (even so, planning her revenge towards her roommate. Damn.)

Mal is looking at her weirdly, now – they're still walking, but the rhythm has slowed down. Regina stares at her, and she doesn't know why, but her heart is pounding in her chest.

And she doesn't know who makes the first move. Only thing she knows, is that Mal's lips are on hers, after a second of hesitation, and they're warm and inviting, and Mal's hand is circling her waist and pulling her close.

"Woah!" a voice yells from nearby, full of giggling excitement, but she doesn't open her eyes, she doesn't need to. There's music around her, and laughs and color and love, and nothing matters but to show it, show her pride and happiness to just be alive and feel.

When they part, it's with panting breaths and the shadow of a laugh in their eyes.

"I was right," Mal says, a glimpse of triumph in her eyes.

And that evening, when she gets home, Regina has a phone number written with a marker on her arm, a battered placard and a stupid smile on her face.


End file.
